


Hungry Like The Wolf

by doortotomorrow



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Biting, Costumes, F/M, Halloween, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doortotomorrow/pseuds/doortotomorrow
Summary: Emori’s got the tricks while John’s got the treats.





	Hungry Like The Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for Kinktober this year. Happy Halloween, everyone!

John Murphy wasn't someone you'd call a traditional artist. If you handed him a chisel to carve marble, you'd end up with a pile of stones, and if you offered him a paint brush, you'd be looking at an incoherent mess of colours slathered on the canvas. If you placed clay in his hands, you'd receive a misshapen, nondescript object for your troubles, and if you gave him a pen, he'd write you the most clumsy, clunky prose...however, there was one medium of artistry in which John exceeded all expectations, breaking away from people's preconceived notions of what kind of person he appeared to be. The man was a master in the kitchen, using a palette of sauces for paint, dough instead of clay, and replacing ink with frosting inside piping bags. 

John started cooking for himself at a young age merely for the sake of self preservation, survival, and paid little mind to presentation or appearance. If it was edible and sufficiently seasoned, he would eat it without the slightest hesitation. However, being burdened with community service at a local food shelter after his stint in juvenile hall not only reformed himself but what he thought of the cooking process altogether. The longer he spent on food prep, whether that be finely dicing vegetables, marinating meats with the right combination of seasonings, or treating a souffle with the gentlest of care, the greater the approval he would gain from his employer. 

The insatiable need for approval from people spurred John into not only becoming a better cook, but inspired him to get a degree in the culinary arts. It was an immense, uphill struggle battling against his criminal record to find a school that would accept him, but he finally made it into Arkadia State with a letter of recommendation from Thelonious Jaha. Sure, Jaha came off more than a little eccentric, but he was the only adult who continued to vouch for him and John needed as many people in his corner as he could find. No matter what people thought Jaha was, John would always think of him rather fondly for giving him a second shot at being something...and he was especially thankful since he paved the way towards him meeting the great love of his life.

Emori.

After selecting the movies for tonight's fright fest, John traipsed into his and Emori's kitchen donning a pair jack-o-lantern print socks on his feet, and extracted his homemade pizza dough from the fridge. Using his hands, he massaged the mound, returned it to room temperature and gently separated it into two parts. On a pan, John manipulated the dough into two large discs, paying careful attention not to overwork it. No one wanted to eat rock hard pizza. After he felt he had reached the right consistency with the skeleton of the pizzas, he pulled out the ingredients he had already prepped this morning before work and placed them in a circle surrounding the base. Leaning towards the cabinet behind him, John reached over, grabbed hold of a spoon, opened up a jar full of his homemade marinara sauce, and measured with his eye the proper amount of sauce to pour onto the base. 

John grabbed a fist full of pepperoni and gracefully scattered the slices all over both pies, making sure to make leave an even coat of meat all around. John opened up a plastic container filled to bursting with grated mozzarella, parmesan, and romano cheese, and sprinkled a generous amount on top of the layer of pepperoni. Once completely covered in cheese, he dug into a bag of finely diced orange peppers, black olives, and bacon slices, and carefully distributed the toppings on the cheese. John was a stickler for symmetry with his homemade pies and wanted every slice to get the same amount of toppings. The perky, 'beep', of the oven told him things were ready to go. John opened up the oven, slid his beautiful creations inside, set the timer for twenty three minutes, and shut the oven door with a confident slam. John stretched out his arms to the ceiling until he was on his tiptoes, allowing for his back to stretch out after being hunched over the stove. He soon got to work cleaning up after himself, putting all the remaining ingredients back into the fridge and picking up any stray bits of dough with a paper towel. Walking out of the kitchen, he stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“I got dinner baking in the oven now, Emori! Ready to decorate the house?” John hollered, his voice climbing all the way up the stairs. 

Emori, upstairs in their bedroom, shouted down in return,

“I'll be right down, I'm just getting my costume prepped for tonight. You're still dressing up too, right?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world!” John proclaimed, wearing a bright smile on his face. 

Emori hadn't clued him in to what her costume was yet. All he knew was Emori wanting him to dress up as a werewolf, which was perfectly alright by him. Werewolves were badass, intimidating, powerful, and fully dominant beasts...how could he possibly refuse? Altogether, his werewolf costume consisted of a black, threadbare t-shirt, ripped up jeans, a pair of gloves and boots with fake grey fur and claws on them, and finished off with a pair of plastic fangs. He was going to spring for some yellow contact lenses, but since he had never applied lenses to his eyes, went against it. Besides, he knew how much Emori adored his gorgeous, sea blue eyes, so why mess with perfection? 

“Still not gonna spill and tell me what you're going as, I take it?” John asked, watching Emori descend from the stairs. Emori, hopping off the last step, shook her hand and lured John into the living room. John quickly followed, drawn to her like she was a magnet. Emori sat cross legged on the floor, sifted through the big bag of decorations she bought at the mall and poured the contents out. Out came a mountain of fake spiderwebs, black curtains, black lights for their lamps, a banner of small orange and black flags that spelled out, “HAPPY HALLOWEEN”, in capital letters, palm-sized jack-o-lanterns, tombstone decals to stick up on the walls, skulls made of plastic, bat stickers for the windows, and ghost shaped candles. 

“Go big or go home, huh?” John spoke through barely concealed laughter.

“It's our first time hosting the Halloween party this year and I wanted to go all out...make it something to remember, y'know,” Emori stated while she reached over to gather up some fake spiderwebs in her hand. “Now,” Emori got up to her feet and ambled her way over to John's side, “let's start decorating,” Emori instructed John, slapping the wad of webs in his hand. 

John complied and flung the spiderwebs into the corners of the living room, on top of the lamps, and over the furniture. Emori placed the ghost shaped candles onto their fireplace mantel, hung the banner over it, and replaced their regular green curtains with the black ones. While she was still near the windows, Emori got on her tiptoes and plastered the bat stickers all around the top of the windows, making it look like a large swarm of bats were about to swoop into their house. 

John took out their regular light bulbs, screwed in the black lights into their lamps, and paired groups of skulls and jack-o-lanterns together on every available surface he could find. Finally, both himself and Emori walked down their hallway, sticking up tombstone decals everywhere they found a blank space, and after all their work was done, they fell back onto the couch to admire their spooky masterpiece. 

“People are gonna lose their minds when they see how awesome this place looks. Fantastic work as always, Emori,” John leaned over, found her mouth with his, and kissed her long and deep.

“Mmm, I know,” Emori mumbled into the kiss, combing her hands through John's hair, “it's time to get our costumes on, they'll be here soon,” Emori broke away from the kiss, gaining a loud whine from John in the process. 

“It'll be worth it, I promise. My costume's gonna floor you, and besides,” Emori looked over into the kitchen, eyebrows shooting up with the sound of the timer going off, “dinner's ready.”

“Alright, alright,” John groused, watching Emori leave his side to hop back upstairs and into the upstairs bathroom, and once she left, the whole room felt so cold and lonely. Shaking it off, John stepped back into the kitchen, dug into the bottom cabinet drawer, fished out a pair of neon yellow oven mitts, reached into the oven and pulled out the cooked pizzas. The divine aroma of melted cheese, savoury meats, and fresh veggies flooded his nose. With a triumphant smile, John set the pies down on the stove top, and extracted his pizza cutter from the top drawer. He cut the pizzas so that combined, they made up twenty four slices. More than enough for the small gathering of people coming to their shindig. 

Although for John, the real hard work was making all of his homemade Halloween candy. All of that was done last week prior to tonight, and he barred Emori from entering the kitchen while he was making it, telling her that she would spoil the surprise. Reaching into the pantry, John lifted up a big black and white polka dot box off the top shelf, and pulled out six large loot bags filled to the brim with homemade Halloween candy. Inside each bag was a caramel candy apple wrapped up in skull print paper, salt water taffy, cherry, blue raspberry, and watermelon flavoured lollipops, tiny chocolate skeletons, sugar cookies shaped like pumpkins and had ice pops chilling in the freezer. To say John Murphy took Halloween seriously would be a massive understatement. 

Once he finished placing the bags of candy around the table where everyone would be sitting, he popped the sliced up pizzas back into the oven, keeping them nice and warm in the residual heat. 

With the task of preparing both dinner and dessert completed, John climbed up the stairs, entered into their bedroom, and made his way into their shared closet. He put all the pieces of his costume together, and turned around slowly in front of a mirror. He looked a bit daft,(the costume itself not being made of the best material), but regardless, he thought he made a fairly decent werewolf. 

He only wished he had prepared his heart for the vision waiting before him when he turned around.

There, clinging onto the door jamb, gazing into his eyes with an uncharacteristic submissiveness was Emori in her costume. Crimson stiletto heels on her feet, black fishnet stockings wrapped tight around her legs with the hemline stopping just above her knees, donning a dark red minidress, and body cinched up in a shiny black corset, pushing her breasts up high on her chest. A long, blood red cloak with a hood draped elegantly over her shoulders added the final touch to her outfit.

“Please, Mister Wolf...don't maul me too badly,” Emori whispered, fluttering her eyes coyly in John's direction.

A surge of heat hit John square in the abdomen, targeting the back of his neck and the front of his chest along with it, and tried in vain to keep his heart from bursting through his rib cage and planting itself in her hands...it was too late, for there she was, holding onto his delicate, blood soaked heart in her exquisite hands. It was hers, had always been, and would reside there until the day he died. John let out a low, rumbling snarl, licking his lips as he stalked his way over to Emori and pressed her hard against the frame of the door. Swallowing down his arousal, he stroked her jawline to the center of her chin with one of his claws, sloped it down the valley of her neck, and landed in between her breasts, toying with the dark lace of her corset.

“Don't worry, Red...I don't bite,” John growled, reaching down to sink his fangs into her shoulder and sending pleasant shivers coursing down Emori's spine, “hard.”

Just before John had the chance to have his fun with Emori, the doorbell rang, shattering his trance completely. That's right...they were having people over...fuck. Exhaling hard into her shoulder, John hoisted his head up away from her, wearing an indignant pout all over his face. Emori clung to his shirt and let out a small giggle, amused as all get out over the forlorn werewolf in front of her. And although she relished in the company of her friends, she almost regretted inviting people over, but it was all part of the act she had been planning for weeks as her surprise for John. What fun would there be in tempting a starving werewolf if there wasn't an unwitting crowd to watch the event unfold? John tore himself away from Emori as best he could, and held her hand as they walked downstairs to greet their guests. 

“Welcome to the Fright Fest, and remember, access to this Resident Evil is only granted to those who dressed up. The suckers who forgot get the boot,” John commanded as he opened up the door, giving their first arrivals a dark, wolfish grin. His grin faltered when his eyes fell upon Bellamy's costume...he said he wouldn't do it, but the bastard did it anyway just to goad him into reacting. Dressed up in a monochromatic green ensemble consisting of a medieval tunic, shorts and tights, wielding a bow in his hand with a set of arrows in a quiver on his shoulder stood Bellamy as Little John. John fought the urge to sock him one in the stomach. Standing next to him was Echo dressed in an equally verdant tunic, skirt, and tights. Echo carried a bow as well but differed from Bellamy by donning a green cap on her head with a bright red feather inserted into the hat's ribbon. John let Robin Hood and her...Little John into the house, and watched the feather in Echo's cap sway back and forth with a cheerful, bouncy rhythm.

John had just begun to shut the door, but the ever encroaching sound of a motorcycle roaring down their street put a stop to that. Rocketing into his neighbourhood came Raven and Zeke dressed up as fighter pilots. The couple fervently cheered over the successful ride. John heard Raven saying, “the mods we installed in this baby make her sing like she's doing a stint on Broadway!”, as she and Zeke walked up the driveway. Zeke wrapped his arm around Raven's waist, nuzzling the side of her face, and planted a sweet kiss on her temple. Leaning up against the open door, John asked,

“So which one of you is Maverick and which one of you is Iceman?”

“Check the nametags, dumbass!” Raven shot back. She rapped her fist on John's forehead, making her way inside, and gave Emori a giant hug the moment she saw her. Zeke soon followed after, complimenting them both for their thoroughly excellent job of decorating the place.

“Yeah, yeah, just make sure your flight plan doesn't include a flyby over our house, hot shot!” John spat, closing the door behind him. 

“I thought Miller and Jackson were supposed to be here too. What happened?” Echo asked, opening up the fridge and helping herself to an ice cold beer.

“Halloween's a busy night for both of them. Jackson's on call at the hospital tonight taking care of any holiday related mishaps, and Miller's out on the beat, watching out for brats startin' shit...” John replied, getting momentarily distracted by Emori ghosting her fingers along the front of her corset, “as for Clarke, she's hosting a kids party with Madi, and Harper and Monty couldn't make it because they're taking Jordan out trick or treating, so it's just us this time around,” he finished, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

“This is my first Halloween party with all of you,” Zeke said, slightly sheepish, and still in the middle of finding his footing among Raven's friends, “what're yours like, Murphy?”

“There's only one rule at Murphy's Fright Fest, newbie,” John replied, divvying out an equal amount of pizza on every plate on the table, “the person who freaks out the most watching the movies has to wash the dishes,” John instructed Zeke, and then threw his head back in laughter. A smile broke out on Zeke's face, followed by a small bit of chuckling. 

“Sounds like a fun challenge, let's do it,” Zeke accepted.

From the outside looking in, dinner appeared to pass by in an instant, but for John everything slowed to an agonizing crawl. Across from him sat Emori, vamping it up in her costume as she took small, delicate nips of her pizza slices, wrapping strands of stretched cheese around her pinkie, sucking it off and breathing out the littlest of sighs with every bite. John's index finger tapped out an erratic beat on the wood table, and fidgeted in his seat as he felt the tip of Emori's heel making deep circles into the flesh of his leg. Emori had hypnotized John so extremely, he barely even registered Bellamy's request for a paper towel. The only thing he had to add to any conversation was a halfhearted nod of his head and a low, mumbling of , “uh-huh”.

When dinner was over, both Emori and John guided their guests carrying their loot bags stuffed with candy into the living room. John turned on the black lights, flooding the room with dark, deep purple light, and Emori pushed the DVD into their Xbox. The fright fest commenced, starting off with the very first Friday the 13th movie, and Echo was already clinging helplessly onto Bellamy's arm. Contrary to her aggressive image, Echo wasn't fond of horror movies, making her the one who got dish duty every time(Emori always ended up relieving her of the job at the end of the night to help make her feel better). As the movie played out to its costume clad audience, John's eyes naturally gravitated towards Emori, and thanked his lucky stars the room was dark enough, for if their regular lights were on, everyone would be able to see that his face had turned the colour of Emori's minidress. 

Emori had taken a cherry flavoured ice pop out of the freezer and was gradually licking it, bringing her tongue up the underside of the pop and circling her tongue around the tip all the while gently gazing into his eyes. The sounds of Jason's deranged mother hacking up stupid, screaming teenagers became white noise as John watched Emori suckle on her pop with her eyes half opened. John gulped hard as parts of it dripped onto her cleavage, leaving a sticky mess he ached to lick off of her. Everyone else in the room faded from his vision and only Emori remained as he watched her whittle her dessert down to the wooden stick with rapt attention. Emori curved her neck along the contours of the leather sofa, allowing the last drops of her treat to trickle down her throat. John nearly let out a whimper when she swallowed it down. He begged the rest of the movies to finish fast. 

As the party wound down(Echo once again got handed dish duty, but Emori told her John and herself would get to them in the morning), John and Emori's guests took off for the night, thanking them for hosting such a badass party and the treats. 

Once the last of the farewells were given, John slammed the door shut, and despite turning around gently to face Emori, the famished look on his face spoke to the contrary. There wasn't an inch of his body feeling calm. John's upper lip twitched, exposing his fangs, and got to work stripping off the cumbersome pieces of his costume. Emori skipped up the stairs, removing her hooded cloak with peals of light, airy giggles spilling from her throat as John chased her upstairs and into their bedroom, stripping his teeth of the fake fangs and flinging them across the room. 

“Oh no, the big, scary wolf's got me cornered...what'll I do now?” 

John lifted Emori onto his shoulder, stomped his way to the edge the bed and threw Emori onto the bed in an unceremonious manner. John had just enough self control left to ask her

“How rough do you want it?”

Emori pressed her hands into the mattress, grounding herself to the bed, and spread open her legs as far as her tight dress would allow. John dragged his tongue across his teeth, his radiant blue eyes darkened to the blackest pitch at the sight of Emori's ass rocking side to side, driving him to the brink. His erection grew painfully inside his jeans, aching to embed itself deep into the tasty treat in front of him. 

“Fill me with your cock! I need it, John!”

John unzipped his jeans and yanked them off his body along with his boxers, revealing his enlarged cock. He climbed his way onto the bed, and practically ripped off Emori's panties as he thrust himself all the way inside Emori's hot pussy. Emori gasped, barely breathing as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him and held onto the bed sheets beneath her for dear life. John pulled her closer to him by the valley of her hips with every forceful thrust, digging his nails into her and leaving lengthy scratch marks all over her skin. 

Emori let out a raspy whine, her hand fumbling to remove her corset as her breasts strained against the tight and unforgiving material. John swatted her hand away from herself as he pulled her up into a seating position, helping her out of her corset, and buried his head into her shoulder. Emori's larger hand curved over the back of his head to help support her weight, groaning out harsh and sharp as his teeth sink deep into her skin. John held Emori by the waist with one hand with the other reaching over to stroke Emori's pulsing clit. Emori's eyes along with her mouth were held open as John continued to pound her pussy. 

“You like it when I take control, don't you?!” John grunted, feeling his heartbeat thrum in his ears.

“Y-yes!” Emori whimpered.

“Want more?!” 

“Oh god, yes! Tear my pussy to shreds!” Emori pleaded.

At her command, John's body broke out into a hot, humid sweat as his arousal threw him into overdrive. His arm soon abandoned her waist, causing Emori to almost lose her balance. She dug her feet into the soft mattress, heels sinking down into the thick foam while John's hand wrapped around her hair and yanked on it. Emori's head was sent flying back, making her scream. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Emori screamed.

John's eyebrows nearly fused together in the middle as he threw his entire body into pumping his rock solid cock inside Emori's pussy, the sound of skin slapping up against skin smacked through the air. The snarling moans flooding out of his mouth increased in volume and grew in number, feeling himself getting closer and closer to reaching his orgasm.

“Fuck..I'm getting close, Em! Hold on tight!”

Emori nodded her head against his shoulder, her free hand reaching back to grab hold of his hip as John grit his teeth and slammed himself as deep as he could reach inside of her drenched vagina. Emori's lucidity abandoned her, feeling pulses of pleasure spreading all over her body while her sweat soaked dress clung onto her beautiful form. Emori's fingernails scratched up John's hip all to hell, trying desperately to keep herself upright, drowning herself in every inch of her greatest love. She loved his hot breath, his love-drunk voice moaning out her name, his facial hair rubbing up against her skin, his hands worshipping her, his gorgeous body, the scent of his cologne, and everything in between. Tears of unadulterated bliss gathered at the corner of her eyes, heart enraptured by a heady combination of pure love and lust. 

With one more good, heavy thrust, Emori's pussy convulsed around John's cock, cumming hard all over him. John's body quaked as his orgasm briefly stunned him from moving an inch. The pair let out silent screams until the breath in their lungs caught up with them, filling the room with the sound of their laboured moans. John pulled Emori back on the bed with him, desperately trying to remember how to breathe again, but feeling pure satisfaction in every part of his body. A content silence soon followed between them as Emori cuddled up to John, feeling soothed by the sound of her lover's steady, resolute heartbeat. John planted butterfly kisses all over face, lapping up the small tears in the corner of Emori's eyes with the slightest brush of his tongue. 

“Was I too rough?” John asked, feeling the seeds of guilt plant themselves inside his chest. Emori put an end to any blossoming guilt by shaking her head while wearing a beaming smile.

“No...I just got to thinking about how much I love you and it made me cry,” Emori replied, fingers mindlessly playing around with a loose strand of thread on John's shirt. John brushed back Emori's sweaty hair away from her face, holding each strand as if it were made of fragile, spun gold. Emori reached over, turned off their lamp and filled with the room with pale blue moonlight. 

“Happy Halloween, John,” Emori yawned, exhaustion slowly overwhelming her.

John gathered Emori into his arms, closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep.

“Happy Halloween, Emori.”


End file.
